


Thieves in the Woods

by kimstaticchild



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fairies, Flowers, GT, Gen, Roselle - OC, Size Difference, TINY - Freeform, dryad, fae, forest, giant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 19:18:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9086482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimstaticchild/pseuds/kimstaticchild
Summary: A tiny dryad receives some unwelcome visitors.





	

Roselle's keen eyes scanned between the branches. Her leaf-like wings buzzed in agitation. There was simply no way that two massive humans could have just disappeared. Part of her hoped they had simply taken their leave, but a more sensible part of her knew it was naive to hope. Even if she couldn't see them, she could _sense_ intruders somewhere in her forest.

It was rare that regular humans wandered close. At least, these ones didn't _look_ like witches. They certainly had an uncanny silence about them when they walked, though.

Something tugged at her gut, and her mouth suddenly felt drier than ash.

The tree. _Her_ tree. One of them was laying his hands on it. She could feel it.

"Oh, no you don't," she growled, making a beeline for her life force. She hadn't even considered that regular humans would be searching for her tree. Either she had severely misjudged them, or they simply thought a colorful tree in the middle of a lush green forest was too interesting to ignore. If it was the latter, they would be easy enough to scare off.

Her scowl flickered into a cringe. A flower had been plucked. Two. Three.

She stopped just short of her grove, spying glimpse of the humans between the vegetation. Circling around to the opposite side, she flew up into one of the higher branches of her tree. The flowers had taken on a lovely shade of periwinkle that spring, and her hair color had changed to match. However, the flowers looked anything but lovely in the human's hand down below.

"Stop!" she shouted. Her voice echoed straight through her tree, pouring out of every branch.

The two men stiffened. The taller one pulled out a handgun, looking around warily for the source of her voice. The blond man by the tree snatched a knife out of his inner pocket, clutching a fistful of Roselle's flowers captive in his other hand.  
"Easy," the brown-haired man called out, lifting his free hand in a show of peace as if he wasn't brandishing that horrible weapon in the other. "We're only here from some flowers, and we'll be on our way."

Roselle wasn't sure whether to be more disturbed by how calmly he was addressing a disembodied voice, or that these two humans seemed to have expected to be met with interference when it came to retrieving flowers.

"L-leave now," she commanded, her confusion seeping into her echoed voice. "You will not take any of my flowers. Put them back and leave."

"Put them back?" The blond man snorted, throwing a disbelieving look up at the branches of Roselle's tree. Thankfully, his eyes scanned far from her hiding place, and she was far too camouflaged to be seen anyway. "What, you want me to staple them back on?"

"Dean," the other warned. "We're not supposed to--"

"To insult it," Dean finished with a roll of his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. If this thing is supposed to be so respected and powerful, why doesn't it show its face?"  
_It?_ Roselle fumed, but she was too stunned to retaliate. Dean took her silence as an answer.

"See? Nothing to worry about, Sam. We just need a couple more flowers anyway." As Dean reached for one of the lower branches to rip at the stems once more, Roselle snapped.

The leaves and flowers around her rustled as her wings fluttered to life and carried her straight down in front of the arrogant human's face, just inches from his nose. "I said stop! Who do you think you are--" The shriek that tore up her throat halted her words.

Faster than a human should be allowed to move, Dean had abandoned the flowers in favor of seizing her from the waist-down. She writhed, fighting for her legs, but that was impossible to do when only her feet and ankles stuck out from the bottom of his fist. She planted her hands on his thumb and forefinger, pushing herself up as hard as she could to squeeze her way free. Her wings hummed uselessly, the bottom edges likely doing no more than tickling the human's knuckle.

Great big green eyes narrowed dangerously at her, prompting her to freeze. In the space of a breath, Dean had been upgraded from walking annoyance to walking threat.

" _This_ is the dryad?" Dean exclaimed. Roselle ducked her head, clapping her hands over her ears. "You've gotta be kidding. This is the mighty forest spirit the books warned about?"

Roselle dared to uncover her ears when he stopped speaking. It was difficult to meet the scowl aimed at her. The approach of crunching leaves gave her an excuse to look away. Glowering at the taller human was easier, given that he was looking at her with a mixture of confusion and awe. Taller, but not quite so intimidating.

"We don't mean to trespass," Sam told her calmly, but it sounded like he was saying something he'd rehearsed. Perhaps from those books Dean had mentioned. Had they _researched_ dryads? "We're not here to hurt you. We need some of your flowers for a spell, that's all. There's a monster that--"

"The only monsters I need to worry about right now are you two!" She was pleasantly surprised she could form a coherent sentence with those thick fingers coiled around her. "You witches are all the same. Throwing your weight around, stealing from me. My tree is my life! Not your personal ingredient pantry to take from as you please!"

Dean turned his hand so she was facing him fully. "We ain't witches, sweetheart. We're just a couple of guy trying to save people from a whole lotta bad. We need your flowers to take this thing down, whether you like it or not. So suck it up, because we're taking them."

Roselle clenched her jaw and made herself meet his eyes. There was entitled arrogance, certainly, but she didn't know what to make of what lied beneath: a particular determination that she found herself fearing and begrudgingly respecting. Something told her that getting on this man's bad side would not end well for her at all. Whatever Sam and Dean were hunting, she almost felt bad for it.

_Hunters_. The word hit her like a falling branch.

It was all she could do to keep from trembling in fear. Why hadn't they killed her yet? They had been aware that they were stealing from someone non-human, and they hadn't gone hunting her down first. They were arguing with her instead of simply gutting her.

Unless their research had been thorough enough to reveal a key fact. If she died, so did their precious flower ingredients. If it weren't for that convenience, she would likely be dead where she stood. Her stomach roiled.

"You still with us?" Dean said, jolting her out of her thoughts.

Roselle fidgeted, trying not to wonder how many things had been killed by the very hand holding her captive. She weighed the possibilities, and there was no doubt in her mind what she should do. Hunters could be unpredictable, or so she had been told. A few flowers were nothing compared to being murdered on the spot.

"Take what you want, hunter," she said gruffly, scraping up the dregs of her dignity. "I will only allow this once. Let me go."

The threat was emptier than an overturned cup. Dean either decided she was harmless enough or that they needed to be on their way, because the hand holding her twisted sideways, and the fingers unfurled slowly. She sat up and brushed at her fern-green dress, pouting at the wrinkles in the fabric.

"No better than the witches," she huffed, pushing off the hunter's hand and fluttering her wings. She flew up to a branch just out of Sam and Dean's reach, glaring down at them.

"Trust me, we're _way_ better than witches." Dean grabbed the fallen flowers from the ground, and to her Roselle's relief, stowed away his knife.

The relief was short-lived as he plucked another couple flowers from low hanging branches. He never took his eyes off of her, as if she was going to swoop down on him again. Her glare became half-hearted. All she could hope was that these two wouldn't go around telling their hunting buddies about her and her tree. Worst case-scenario, one of them would decide she was unworthy to be alive, useful or not.

"These better work," Dean said, shooting one last look at her as if she had been the one to suggest using her flowers in the first place. She might have fired back, but he was stepping away from her tree, and she didn't want to give him an excuse to approach again.

"What he means is 'thank you'," Sam put in, offering Roselle a half-smile, as if she would share a look with him about how rude his hunting partner was.

It didn't happen.

"I can't accept thanks for you taking something that wasn't offered," she told them flatly. "Now leave my woods."

"Touchy," Dean said by way of parting. With that, the hunters turned, walking away with their eerily stealthy footsteps.

Roselle didn't breathe easy until her senses assured her that no intruders occupied her home.


End file.
